Remnants
by Frayed One
Summary: A collection of small snapshot from the "Varric Tethras' One True Epic" universe. Though they will revolve around Nathaniel and Elissa, a variety of characters from Origin through DA:2 will be included.
1. Boast

_**Disclaimer**__: Bioware owns all, except what I most humbly imagine. While, at times, I will take verbatim from the game, I attempt to use the events of the Dragon Age games, expansions and universe as a loose structure around which to construct my re-imagined tale. If you are looking for a strict canon piece, I have no desire to offend, and so I warn you upfront that I will divert from the traditional tale._

_When reading these stories, I hope you can easily imagine it being told by the very best of storytellers in Varric Tethras (from DA:2). In my version of events, Varric meets "The Hero" (Elissa Cousland) in Kirkwall during the time period of DA:2. I mention this only so that readers can understand his connection along the way, and so I don't have to mention and rehash it again and again as I make my way through the tale. _

_**A/N:** As I've been writing what has now become an epic, tiny bits of things are constantly popping into my head. Most of the time I can work them into the larger story which has now made it into Book Four, but occasionally there are pieces like this one that just don't seem to fit within the confines of the books I'm writing.  
_

_Remnants is a collection of these pieces.  
_

_For this collection I am also open to "requests". If there is anything you've wondered or wanted to ask or know about Nathaniel or Elissa or the two together, feel free to send it to me via IM and I'll attempt to address it with a small story.  
_

_Enjoy!  
_

_-Frayed One  
_

* * *

_**1. Boast**_

Nathaniel leaned against the stone wall at the back corner of the courtyard staring at something on the ground. It must have been interesting, whatever it was. He'd been staring at it for the past thirty minutes. Elissa should know. She hadn't stopped watching him since he walked in several hours before.

He'd done his precursory loop around the room, likely at his father's insistence. She doubted Nathaniel would have ever done such a thing of his own accord. He hated these gatherings, perhaps more than she did if his current body language was to be believed. He was polite enough – speaking when spoken to, always following the well-established guidelines of noble protocol – but if you knew what you were looking for it was easy to see he'd rather be anywhere other than where he was.

He'd ditched his family and made a beeline for Fergus as soon as he was able. It had become the routine for these types of gatherings years before, much the same way as she and Delilah would ultimately gravitate toward one another. Soon after they'd met up, Fergus began gathering the sampling of noble girls that always flocked to him within an hour of his arrival. He sat at a table now, surrounded by them, looking for all the world as though he was having the time of his life. It made Elissa want to punch him even more than she usually did.

She glanced at Nathaniel again, wondering if his focus had shifted from the staring contest he'd been having with the ground, but it hadn't. She was certain there were several of the girls - now fawning over her brother - who had originally come to see Nathaniel, quickly losing interest when he didn't respond to their advances. There were rumors that it wasn't women catching the eldest Howe's eye, rumors that resulted in an exceptionally harsh response from his father, but Elissa knew they weren't true. She'd watched him for too long. She knew the subtle responses in his behavior that most people would miss. He absolutely appreciated at least the physical beauty of many women, though something kept him from acting on it. She could wager any number of guesses, but in all honesty, even Elissa had no idea what it was.

"What do you think, Elissa?"

The sound of her name drew her attention back to the group of noble girls clustered around the table behind her, though she had no idea what they'd asked her opinion on.

"Hmm?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and mustered up a smile.

"Don't bother asking _her_. She hasn't a clue what we're talking about. She's been staring at that Howe boy all night as usual."

"No I haven't." Elissa shifted her eyes over to Anora, narrowing them slightly in response to her tone.

"_Yes_, you have. It's pathetic really… fawning over someone like that." Anora folded her arms with a smile, listening to the light flutter of laughter that began to circulate through the girls around her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Anora." She folded her arms and turned away, but there was a moment when she caught Delilah's sympathetic eyes in which her mask must have slipped. It was all Anora needed.

"Oh yes you do." The blonde chuckled as she stood up from the table and walked to Elissa's side. "The saddest thing about it is that he doesn't even know you exist!"

"He knows I exist. We're friends. Good friends." It was a boast; an unjustified boast and Elissa knew it. Most days they barely tolerated one another.

"If you're such _good_ friends, why don't you go and ask him for a dance?"

And there it was, bluff called. Elissa could hear the whispers starting already and her heart started to pound.

"Nathaniel doesn't dance." It wasn't a lie, so far as she knew he didn't, though being noble she doubted it was because he didn't know how.

"Rubbish. All nobility dances, you're just making excuses." Anora folded her arms and broadened her smile, sensing blood in the water and moving in for the kill. "I think you're afraid to ask. I think you're afraid to ask because you know he'll decline the invitation."

"I'm _not_ afraid. I'm not afraid of anything." Elissa could feel her temper rising as she glared at the older girl.

"_Prove it_." Anora barely whispered it, leaning in close to Elissa's ear with a malicious grin, but it was loud enough she could be certain the entire crowd of girls behind them heard the dare.

Elissa swallowed, feeling her heart thump harder in her chest. Her palms started sweating and she squeezed hard at the insides of her elbows where she'd folded her arms just to keep herself from visibly shaking. "Fine."

She didn't look at Anora. She didn't look at any of them, but she knew they were watching as she stalked across the room.

Nathaniel looked up when her movement caught his attention. Though it may have appeared he'd been lost in thought, he was clearly far more observant of his surroundings than she'd given him credit. She glanced over at Fergus who had also noticed her approach, and knew that with his attention focused on her the other girls had to be watching as well.

"Dance with me." Elissa spat the words out before she could lose the nerve, feeling her pulse pick up again as she waited for his response.

"_What?_" Nathaniel's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't move from where he leaned against the wall.

"You heard me." Elissa reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging hard enough that he was forced to stand up straight or fall over and dragging him in the direction of the dance floor. Once she reached it she spun back around and put a hand on his shoulder, holding the other one out and waiting for him to take it and start the dance, but he didn't move. Other couples twirled around them and Elissa could feel the eyes of everyone in the room drifting in their direction because they were standing still. She thought her heart might explode. "Nathaniel, _please_!"

He glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of the gaggle of noble girls she'd been standing with all night at the edge of the tile. Noble girls were cruel, Nathaniel knew the explicit details of just _how_ cruel from the humiliations handed out to Delilah who worked to fit in. Elissa didn't even try, and though she never complained, he could imagine just how vicious that made them toward her. Tonight's behavior was entirely out of character. Elissa was demanding, but never in a setting like this. Whatever it was the girls said to her must have been dire to push her into coming to him in search of rescue.

He looked back down at Elissa, but she'd closed her eyes and he noted a slight tremble in her bottom lip. She'd obviously decided he was going to abandon her there in front of everyone. It was the first time he'd really seen any proof that she doubted herself, and that was enough to make his decision.

She opened her eyes when she felt the press of his hand at her hip, and Nathaniel could read the surprise and then the relief in her eyes when he took her hand and began to lead them into the crowd of bodies already moving across the dance floor. She couldn't have picked a more complicated dance if she'd tried, but if she had any trouble with it Nathaniel didn't notice. However he turned them, she adapted to it perfectly.

He smiled. It was slight, but he knew that she caught it when he saw the minute curve of her own lips in response. If it was a show the girls wanted, he could certainly give it to them. Perhaps they'd both get a moments peace from their respective pressures in response.

Nathaniel upped the pace of his footwork, adding in steps, turning Elissa fast enough at times that he worried she might lose her balance – but she never did. Whatever he threw at her, she responded to it as though she'd known what he planned to do before he ever decided to do it. It was enough to catch his attention and hold it until the music started to slow in the background signaling that the dance had reached its end.

He turned her one last time with a flourish, before tucking her hand into his elbow and leading her back over to the gaggle of noble girls now standing open mouthed in front of their table. Except for Anora. If steam could have come out of her ears, Nathaniel had no doubt it would be right now.

"My lady." Nathaniel brushed a kiss across Elissa's knuckles, catching his sister's eye long enough to see the grin she wasn't showing twinkle in her eyes, and then turned away.

Elissa watched him move back through the crowd with a smile. If she hadn't been lost before, she certainly was now.

"You know his father is in negotiations with mine for a betrothal already. If I wanted him, I could have him right now." Anora stood, waiting for a response, huffing off a moment later when she didn't get one.

Elissa knew about it. Everyone did, but as she caught Nathaniel's eyes one last time before he went back to staring at the floor, she was certain Anora's boast would never be true.


	2. The Persistence of Memory

_**Disclaimer**__: Bioware owns all, except what I most humbly imagine. While, at times, I will take verbatim from the game, I attempt to use the events of the Dragon Age games, expansions and universe as a loose structure around which to construct my re-imagined tale. If you are looking for a strict canon piece, I have no desire to offend, and so I warn you upfront that I will divert from the traditional tale._

_When reading these stories, I hope you can easily imagine it being told by the very best of storytellers in Varric Tethras (from DA:2). In my version of events, Varric meets "The Hero" (Elissa Cousland) in Kirkwall during the time period of DA:2. I mention this only so that readers can understand his connection along the way, and so I don't have to mention and rehash it again and again as I make my way through the tale. _

_**A/N:** This little tidbit came from an "Alphabet Challenge". This one is Elissa's. The letter was A, but the word could be either of the two things mentioned within. I'll leave that up to the reader. This is distinctly sad. You have been warned.  
_

_Thanks to my readers, followers and reviewers and to my beta **artemiskat**.  
_

_Happy Reading!  
_

_-Frayed One  
_

* * *

_**2. The Persistence of Memory**_

Elissa was ten the first time she tasted it; lukewarm and bitter from the forgotten mug of a guardsman too busy to notice it had disappeared from the table at his side. It was a dare put forward by Fergus; the execution monitored carefully by both his eyes and those of the Howe children. She'd held it in her mouth until no one was looking and then spat it out behind the potted fern in the corner, hoping no one would notice as they were leaving the room in search of the next target on their list.

The second time she was fifteen and drinking straight from a stolen bottle of wine. She'd pilfered it from a Denerim party in the hopes that it would give her the courage to finally admit her feelings aloud to the dark-haired young man sitting at her side; but the dry, sweet liquid still couldn't prevent fear from silencing her voice.

Years later she'd shared a sip of celebratory Verchiel with her mother after Fergus and Oriana finally exchanged their vows. It was sweet and bubbly but did little to soothe her aching heart. The man she loved was gone and it had become clear he would likely never return. She smiled, and clapped, and tried not to let it make her bitter. The flute would be tucked away in a box of mementos, forgotten and eventually lost in the fire that destroyed her home and the girl she had been along with it.

The next time it had been what she could only describe as grain alcohol - poured sloppily into two small, chipped shot glasses by a drunken and decidedly agitated blacksmith on the outskirts of Redcliffe. It burned her throat so badly it made her eyes water, but she knocked it back – and the one that followed it – pretending not to stagger when the alcohol hit her drastically unprepared system. By the time the walking dead invaded the town it was all but forgotten.

Then it was Garbolg's Backcountry Reserve shared with Oghren in the burning, horde-ridden outskirts of Denerim's ruins. "Liquid courage" he called it. It tasted like death, which was fine – she was headed to hers.

It was mug after mug of ale straight from the keg at Alistair's coronation when she'd survived the un-survivable, and anything she could get her hands on after that. The random assortment of bottles she'd collected in her travels; Dragon's Piss, Aquas Lucidae, and eventually Bozzoli Rossa when the alcohol alone wasn't enough to silence the chatter in her mind.

Nothing worked. The hum of the horde was constant, as were the voices of the dead reminding her of all the souls she had damned… of all the times she'd failed. Of every time she'd gone back when she should have walked away, or walked away when she should have stayed forever.

If she could drink enough she could forget.

If she could drink enough she wouldn't care.

If she could drink enough she wouldn't be herself anymore.

She could deny her addiction.

Forget his name and his face.

Forget the sound of his voice.

Forget the way he smelled and the touch of his hands on her skin.

Forget what it felt like to love and be loved by him.

Just forget.


	3. Straight and True

_**Disclaimer**__: Bioware owns all, except what I most humbly imagine. While, at times, I will take verbatim from the game, I attempt to use the events of the Dragon Age games, expansions and universe as a loose structure around which to construct my re-imagined tale. If you are looking for a strict canon piece, I have no desire to offend, and so I warn you upfront that I will divert from the traditional tale._

_When reading these stories, I hope you can easily imagine it being told by the very best of storytellers in Varric Tethras (from DA:2). In my version of events, Varric meets "The Hero" (Elissa Cousland) in Kirkwall during the time period of DA:2. I mention this only so that readers can understand his connection along the way, and so I don't have to mention and rehash it again and again as I make my way through the tale._

_**A/N:** Another one from the "alphabet challenge." This one is Nathaniel's "A". _

_Thanks to my readers, reviewers and followers and to my beta **artemiskat**.  
_

_Happy reading!  
_

_-Frayed One  
_

* * *

_**3. Straight and True**_

Rendon wanted him to be a swordsman. "Real men use a blade, son. You should look your enemy in the eye as you kill them. Bows are for women and cowards."

That was the first time he'd have his grandfather's bow taken away and deposited in an area of the keep where his father assumed he'd never find it. He was passable with a blade, better with daggers than any other weapon forged from steel, but his father thought those the weapons of cowards as well and steered him back toward the longsword with a critical sneer.

In his free and private time he tracked down the family bow, tucked inside a hidden cache, disguised behind a statue in the family library. Once he'd found it he practiced. Practiced until there were blisters on his fingers. Practiced until the muscles in his arms ached from the strain. Practiced until he was certain his father could not doubt the value of his skill.

Archery came naturally to Nathaniel. He understood it. It was a thoughtful skill tailor made for a thoughtful young man. He could hit the smallest mark without even seeing it. Sense memory seemed to tell him where it was and guide his arrow to the mark. But even then, his father seemed unimpressed.

He entered an archery competition at Fergus' suggestion. "When you win, he won't be able to stay mad at you. And just think of all the girls!"

What the girls thought always seemed to motivate Fergus, far more than it should as far as Nathaniel was concerned. But the idea that winning such an event could earn his father's favor was an intriguing idea, so he entered.

When he won, his father was happy enough to bask in the familial glory, certain to take all of the credit for having the foresight to train such a talented bowman. Nathaniel let it slide, happy to accept the praise he was getting and to be allowed to practice openly instead of worrying when his father would discover his secret.

The more he trained the better he got. He was talented, and even he knew it. The bowmen of his father's guard couldn't best him and they were hardened men forged on the field of battle. He was so talented that word of his skill spread and eventually the Teyrn requested that he use his abilities and his patience to train his daughter to wield a bow.

It would take his entire reserve of both to meet that challenge. Elissa was wild and unruly and had no desire to use a bow. Like his father, she preferred a blade. Their training sessions were tedious and frustrating and looked forward to by neither of them. He tried to be nice to her, but she made it difficult, prodding his temper at every opportunity.

She had potential, but no patience for it, and was easily distracted by the things she'd rather be doing. She pulled back at the bow too hard, on one such occasion snapping the bowstring and sending it cracking back across her face. Nathaniel made the mistake of reaching for her in concern.

"Don't touch me!" She snapped at him and ran off toward the castle, bow and arrows abandoned and forgotten, leaving Nathaniel to wonder what he'd done to make her despise him with such passion.

That was the second time he'd lost his grandfather's bow. His father confiscated it upon hearing of Elissa's injury during their training session, though the Teyrn insisted no harm had been done. It was a punishment he would not soon forget. He never looked for the bow again. Some things were best forgotten.

The Teyrn gifted him with a new bow upon hearing that his old one had been… _lost_. It was nothing like his old bow, but it would do.

At night, when everyone else was sleeping or – in Fergus and Elissa's case off getting into mischief of some sort – Nathaniel would fletch arrows. It was a skill that required a very particular mindset and an incredibly delicate hand. He was lucky enough to have both. It was soothing, this ritual of replenishment and renewal. It kept his soul at ease when little else could be counted on to do so.

Nathaniel would let the arrows guide him; sure and true and steady. They would never steer him wrong.

When the arrows led him back to Elissa Cousland, he assumed it was the hand of fate guiding them there. They'd barely spoken since the incident; months turning into a year and then rolling over, then suddenly there she was, an archer herself despite both their best efforts. It opened his eyes to things he hadn't thought possible before, and he set his course anew.

It wasn't until the Free Marches that he learned the blade skills his father had so desired to find in him. That he used those skills to wield what the man had called a coward's blade was an irony not lost on Nathaniel, though he would not realize just _how_ ironic until the truth of his "assignments" was revealed years later in the wake of the man's failed treachery.

The arrows were silent, their wisdom lost. He returned to Ferelden a broken man. Not who he was and not who he wanted to be. He gave up hope when his father's last words turned out to be a quest for vengeance, but he accepted the task nonetheless. He would do it, this one last thing, and be done with it. It was his blades that led him here, not the arrows.

When the Wardens caught him before he could complete his task he prayed it would be over soon, but they locked him in his father's basement cell and left him to rot until the woman he'd come to kill could decide his fate. That woman turned out to be Elissa and everything he'd known, his entire world, turned upside down.

She found his grandfather's bow and returned it to him. It was an act of kindness he did not expect, even more surprising than her decision to release him in lieu of execution. She didn't trust him, didn't love him, but she believed in his skill. When she spoke of him as an archer, he remembered how much he'd loved it, and how it had always soothed his mind.

He'd come back here for a reason.

He would let the arrows lead again.


End file.
